by Deb Rotuno
“Due to its concentrated state, that tech was deadly to those around him within seconds, which unleashed a huge chain of events. The virus went from cold-like symptoms that shook the whole world, to simply passing through the bite of the infected. And that’s the change that you’re seeing here.” She gestured between the picture in the file to the microscope. “It mutated, skipping the longer process and going directly for the bloodstream. It adapted to its environment.”
“And it adapted quicker than I’ve ever seen,” Rich added, shaking his head and rubbing his face wearily. “Those first technicians—patients zero through whatever number—transferred the virus to several people simply by coming into contact with them: gas stations, restaurants, neighborhoods, family members… You name it. Oils in their skin, saliva, tears, blood… Anything could’ve set off the events. What’s the first thing you do when you’re sick? You go to the hospital or doctor, and from there it had an entire building of hosts. And it spread and spread and spread until the flu started killing off everyone. As more people died, the zeaks lost their hosts and food sources. It found a way to slow itself down to allow food to become the primary directive, instead of attaching to hosts. However, it now does both. Food first, and then the virus attaches to the spent body.”
“Then how come we all didn’t get sick?” I asked.
“Pure unadulterated…luck.” Dottie’s voice was sharp and firm. “By the time the virus had mutated, the flu was just about over. Not everyone goes to the doctor when sick, and by the time it reached this side of the country, it had most likely already started to change.”
“Could it mutate again?”
“Probably,” Rich answered but shook his head again. “But I doubt it. It seems to have leveled out into what we see here.” He tapped the microscope. “Now…what we’ve learned is, there’s no reversal. None.” He grimaced but picked up a different container to hold up. “It wouldn’t matter what we do… We can’t take those to zeaks in the holding pen out there and turn them back into normal, functioning human beings again. There’s just too much physical damage. Their brains are essentially…mush. They also don’t have a circulatory system, so there’s no way to give them anything. It wouldn’t do a bit of good.”
“So…” I dragged out the word. “Immunization?”
“That would be our best bet. Our only bet, really,” he answered, smiling a little, and it reminded me of Jack’s slightly cocky grin. “Sasha was the biggest clue yet. Though we’ve also taken some blood samples from a couple of the rabbits in the cage out there. Both are immune to the virus.”
Dottie stepped forward a little. “If we can find out what component in their blood allows them to stay healthy despite the virus’s introduction into their bloodstream, then maybe we can come up with a guard against future bites.”
“Which means the zeaks could bite all they want, but it would have no viral effect on humans; there would be no turning, just a wound,” Rich clarified. “Just like they did to Sasha.”
“Huh,” I huffed in shock and hope and awe. They really were onto something. But what hit me the hardest, with the most shock, was the fact that I could’ve lost the two people in front of me, not to mention Jack and Joel. A wave of gratefulness hit me like a tsunami, making tears well up in my eyes. “I… That was…too close. I could’ve lost you—all of you.”
Rich smiled warmly, wrapping me in a hug. “It was very close, and we were fortunate that the damage cut us all off from the virus. We sealed off the lab, Sara, which kept Joel and Jack safe.”
Why that thought scared me now, after all we’d survived and been through, I had no idea. I spun when Jack’s deep chuckle met my ears behind me, and I rushed to him, wrapping my arms around his middle, ignoring the fact that his body was cold and damp from playing in the snow.
“Shortcake?” His laugh faltered. “Sara, what’s wrong?” he asked in my ear, only to turn the questions to his parents. “What the hell did you say to her?”
Sniffling, I shook my head and looked up at him as his parents laughed softly at us. “Hush, Jack. I’m just being stupid.”
He grinned, shaking his head, but it all turned to warmth when he met my gaze. “So…do I want to know?”
I sighed deeply just to breathe him in, finally letting him go. “No, I’m okay. Just…thankful.”
He pressed his lips to my forehead, snickering against my skin when I shivered. “Sorry,” he whispered as he linked our fingers together. “I’m gonna go change.” With a gentle tug, he silently asked me to come with him, and I nodded.
Once we were upstairs, I saw that he’d sent Freddie up to get into warm, dry clothes too. Though, my son was hyper as hell and was redressed just about the second we stepped into the suite. He rambled excitedly about Grandpa Hank and Christmas trees and Santa before dodging around us and out the door.
Jack chuckled softly as he led me to our bedroom. Letting my hand go, he grabbed fresh, dry clothes, only to step into the bathroom and strip down. When he was down to his boxer briefs, he lifted me up to the vanity, stepping between my legs.
“Spill it, Shortcake,” he whispered, cupping my face and lightly caressing my face with his calloused thumbs. “You just about broke my ribs.”
Giggling, I leaned into his touch. My amusement fell away quickly, though. “Your parents were telling me about the virus, and I realized just how damn close I came to losing you…all of you.”
Understanding dawned on his handsome face, and he sniffed once, glancing around. “Yeah. Damn close, but we’re okay, baby.”
“I know.” I grasped either side of his face and brought his lips to mine. “I know, Jack, but hearing it, seeing the pictures of the damn thing, it just…hit me.”
He smiled warmly. “Fair enough. I’m supposed to help them set up the tree—they need a hand building the stand or some shit—but I’ll stay with you, baby. Just say the word…”
Smiling up at him, I sighed. “No, Olivia and I have plans for the kids and making Christmas ornaments. I have a feeling your pal, Ava, and our son are gonna eat more popcorn than they string.”
Laughing, he nodded in agreement. “I wouldn’t doubt it, Sara. It’s their favorite snack. I’d be willing to bet they’ll think it’s wasting good popcorn.”
“Well, maybe we can figure something else out.”
His lips met mine, softly and gently. “But you’re okay?”
“I’m fine, Jack. I promise,” I vowed honestly, simply because no matter how close the call was all those months ago, I had him right there. I was touching and hugging and kissing him, so I was perfect. I took his dog tags in my hand, tugging him closer, which made him smirk, but he stayed quiet as I folded myself around him again just to hear his heart beating in his strong chest.
“Happy Thanksgiving, Jack,” I whispered against his skin, which smelled like snow and trees and just Jack.
I felt kisses dropped to my head, cheek, and finally, he lifted my chin to kiss my lips. “You too, Shortcake.”
I eventually—after much teasing from Jack—let him get redressed so we could join everyone downstairs to help with the tree. We walked in to hissed curses, giggling kids, and pine needles everywhere, not to mention a big debate on how to attach the stand. After much bickering and three tries at getting the damn thing to stand up straight, the tall pine sat in the corner of the lobby between the fireplace and the back-deck doors. The table was a beehive of activity as Ava, Janie, Rina, and Freddie were making Christmas decorations with paper we’d found in the office, along with crayons and markers. Instead of popcorn, which was deemed an irrational idea by Freddie and Ava, the kids used scissors to cut out strings of snowflakes to wrap around the tree as garland. When Quinn showed up with a box from the basement filled with the lodge’s own decorations, the tree ended up a gorgeous sight to behold.
But it was Josh’s discovery that caught my dad’s attention the most. A radio. Small and portable, thankfully battery operated, it was set on the long table while Josh
tried to find any stations trying to get messages out to people. There wasn’t much. He found one station that had an emergency broadcast message on repeat, which meant that a station somewhere in Medford still had power.
“You know what we need to check out?” Joel piped up as he spun a chair around and sat down. When we turned our attention to him, he pointed toward the back-deck doors. “We need to fire up the CB in the Hummer. We gave up on it in Florida, but people may have started trying for contact now that winter’s here. The zeaks are slow, easy to pick off, so maybe people are finally able to catch a break and get a message out.”
“Mm,” Dad hummed in agreement. “Not a bad idea.”
“When the snow lets up, I’ll get out there,” he volunteered.
“Let me know what you find, but don’t reveal anything over that radio. Just run a search.”
Leaning back against Jack as we listened to Quinn pick out Christmas songs on his guitar, I wondered just how many groups were out there like us—people just trying to stick together and survive. And then I wondered how many were like Harrison’s group—people who could hurt us, people who just wanted to take, people who would kill just because they could. I snuggled into Jack closer, and he wrapped his arms around me.
The world was a dangerous, scary place now, but I remembered what Jack had said just before we left the cabins at Clear Lake. He’d said that things couldn’t always stay bad, that life had to find a way to continue, even if it was a completely different life than any of us knew before. He said he had to believe that.
As I watched my son hang paper ornaments on the tree surrounded by some people we’d never have known, never have met, had it not been for the virus, I could see a small hint of hope, but it scared me to give into it. While Jack had always been an optimist, he’d always been a realist too. The hope he had wouldn’t stop him from protecting me, Freddie…all of us, should things go awry. Pulling back, I looked up at Jack, who tore his quiet gaze away from his son.
“What?” he asked, tucking my hair behind my ear.
“You think… You think there are others out there…people like us?”
He smiled. “I hope so. We can’t be the only civilized people left.”
“What if we are?” I asked him with a humorless laugh.
Jack studied my face, his expression somber. “Then they’ll either stay away…or we’ll make them. It’s really that simple, Shortcake.” When I didn’t say anything, he turned to face me, his voice soft, only for me. “We’ve all walked through the pits of fucking hell to get here…to this place. There’s not a person in this room who won’t fight to keep it…and I don’t even mean this lodge. I mean this…” He gestured a finger around the room at everyone laughing, smiling, singing, or just soaking up the atmosphere quietly. “Just this. This feeling of community, family, belonging. That alone is worth fighting for, even if we had to start over somewhere new. However, the longer we’re here, the longer we keep growing roots here, the harder it would be for someone to come here and disrupt it. I’ve seen it. I saw it overseas. The mightiest, bravest warriors were the little guys—the people struggling just to feed their family, keep them safe. They’ll fight tigers with rocks and sticks to protect them.”
There were times I’d forgotten the things Jack had seen prior to the virus. My brow furrowed as I cupped his face.
“And if your parents come up with something? Are we responsible for getting it out there?” I asked him.
He sighed, shrugging a shoulder. “I don’t know, Shortcake. Yes, no…probably? One thing at a time, okay?” He smiled at my chuckle. “Relax,” he whispered against my lips. “Your head is all over the place today.”
“It is. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I get it,” he soothed. “Just…let it go. At least for this,” he said, pointing to the tree, but then he waved over Freddie, who happened to have a big, gold metal star in his hand.
“Dad! Help me!” he ordered, wearing a smile that made all the worries fade away. “I can’t reach!”
“See?” Jack said with a grin, dropping a kiss to my lips before standing up and scooping our son up into his arms. “Ready, Freddie?” he asked our son, spinning him around and raising him up so he could put the star on the top of the tree like he was slam-dunking a basketball.
God, I loved them both. I loved that my husband was the epitome of calm, cool, and collected, no matter what emotional upheavals I threw his way. I loved that he knew things could go wrong but that he wasn’t dwelling on it. And I loved the sight of him holding, teasing, and tickling our son, because it could’ve all been snatched away. But it hadn’t been.
Jack was right. Life was too precious to let the good slip past us while worrying about the what ifs.
JACK
Klamath Lake, Oregon
8 months after Hurricane Beatrice
Our breath plumed out with every exhale Freddie and I let out. The snow was thick, sticking to every-damn-thing. I glanced across the clearing, noting where my dad and Derek were huddled down in their own spot. We’d tracked all day the day before, and we were hoping we’d be able to bring something home by the afternoon.
Freddie shifted a little, but he’d been so excited about this hunting trip that it wasn’t surprising he was fidgety. It was what he’d asked for, what he’d wanted for his Christmas present: hunting with just the Chambers men. The thought made me smile and gaze over at him. He’d heard Derek and me teasing my dad about a past trip when we were kids, so he wanted it. We needed the meat, so it was a win-win trip. It was just the four of us. Just family.
Sara had been wary at first, but she knew it was important to Freddie, and as much as we’d wanted to take Sasha with us, she wasn’t quite ready. The dog was getting stronger every day, though. She’d lost the stitches but not the limp just yet. She’d have a scar, but that beat losing her altogether. And she was getting increasingly restless. With every zeak swarm we’d encountered since she’d gotten hurt, she’d tried to help but couldn’t. Making her stay behind had been hard but necessary.
Luckily, the zeaks moved slower in the cold weather, but that didn’t make them any less dangerous. They’d sometimes lie in wait, hidden beneath snowdrifts, attacking when someone walked near. We’d just about lost Hank to one like that, but we’d pulled him away just in time.
I checked Freddie over without saying anything. Sara would kick my ass should he get too cold or catch the flu or something. He was bundled up just fine, not that he was paying much attention to the weather. I adjusted my own wool skull-cap, only to reach over and do the same to his.
“Warm enough?” I asked him, smiling when he nodded but rolled his eyes up at me. “Don’t even start with me, son. Your mother’s wrath scares me, so don’t get me into trouble.”
He grinned. “You’re scared of Mom?”
“You have no idea,” I muttered, chuckling when he laughed softly at me. “One day you’ll understand, son.”
“But she’s a girl.”
“Yes, she is, and girls hold all the power. Trust me,” I told him. “They can make you feel like a hero or break you with one word.”
“Did Mom?”
Smirking at him, I sat back against the tree trunk behind me. “Oh, yeah.” I nodded, giving the clearing a quick glance. “The first time I ever saw your mom, I thought she was pretty. We were in school, and she was the new girl. The first time I ever talked to your mom, though, I thought for sure she’d turn me down. She was so confident…and pretty. She could’ve had any guy in the room.”
He grinned. “Mom tells it different.”
Chuckling, I shook my head. “I’m sure she does.”
“She says that you were a handsome soldier about to go away to war and that you came into Shelly’s with Derek. She said you were already a hero and that you looked scared about leaving.”
“Oh, God. I was,” I agreed. “I was leaving everything I knew, everyone I knew. And I wasn’t so sure I’d make it back.”
“Bu
t you did.”
“I did. And I talked with and wrote letters to your mom the whole time I was gone. She kept me from going crazy. I didn’t realize just how much I needed a friend over there, despite the fact that I thought she was the prettiest thing I’d ever seen.”
“You still think she’s pretty?”
“The prettiest. Don’t you?”
“Yeah,” he sighed, smiling my way. “But you’re still scared of her?”
“Terrified.”
His giggle was so much like Sara’s that I couldn’t help but pull him close for a moment and kiss his temple.
“Your mom is like an angry bear when it comes to you, Freddie. As much as she loves me, she would kill for you, and so would I, but you come first to us, to her, so if I bring you home in anything less than perfect condition, she’d give me hell.”
“I’m gonna tell her you said that.”
“Trust me, she knows.”
“Did you…” His teasing expression faded away, and he looked down at the rifle across his lap. He didn’t look up when he asked his next question. “Did you think we…she…was dead?” He met my eyes. “When you were coming to us?”
I reached for his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “I didn’t know, Freddie. Did the thought cross my mind? Daily. Hourly, almost. But I’d made you two a promise, and I did my best to just…keep going.”
He nodded, letting out a sigh. “She was sad. She…cried at night for you. She thought I was asleep, but I heard her. Sometimes she’d sleep in my bed and wake me up. I’d hug her like you told me to, but…”